Of Doctors and Detectives
by Loony4moony816
Summary: Who knew that the best thing that could have happened to Detective Noah 'Puck' Puckerman was getting shot? AU!fic
1. Chapter 1

All Second Grade Detective Noah "Puck" Puckerman could feel was pain. He knew that getting shot wasn't a walk in the fucking park, but this shit was ridiculous.

He read about guys getting shot before; the fucking pansies tried to be all flowery and shit and said that "Insert-body-part-here felt like it was on fire". Oh, _fuck_ no. Puck's shoulder wasn't on fire. It felt like some stupid, high-on-meth, lowlife scum got scared of getting busted _again_ and shot the arresting officer. Oh, wait. That's _exactly _what happened. In Puck's opinion, the only way to properly describe the pain of getting shot was "I fucking got shot, motherfucker." He was poetic like that.

"Oh, jeez, Christ! We need some help over here!" Through the haze brought on by the fucking_ pain_, Puck could hear his partner and best friend panicking. He almost smiled. Finn Hudson was sentimental like that.

"Come on, buddy, keep your eyes open." Puck really, _really_ didn't want to, unconsciousness seemed like _such_ a good idea. His eyes were half shut when he opened them again, violently, "OW!"

"Sorry, man, but I got to stop the bleeding." Puck was closer to crying than he'd ever been and that included the time CSU Tech Quinn Fabray kneed him in the balls for hitting on her at the annual NYPD Black and White Ball. How the hell was he supposed to know that she was dating some Broadway chick?

Puck heard the sirens of a wailing ambulance and, not long after, felt himself being placed in a stretcher and being loaded onto the 'bus. Finn, the lovable but dim jackass, held his hand the entire ride, muttering threats that Puck was sure he would follow up on, had Puck done the stupid thing and died.

The ride wasn't very long. St. Vincent's was only twelve blocks away and with the crazy driving that accompanied most New York ambulances ("Chill the fuck out, Chang! There's no chance he'll make it if your pop-and-lock ass gets us wrapped around a streetlight pole!" "What the fuck ever, Rutherford! Just keep him alive!"), Puck was at the hospital in no time.

In accordance with the cliché sentiment, Puck hated hospitals. Most of the time, he was interviewing rape victims or talking to beat-up witnesses or, worst-of-all, waiting around to see if a fellow officer was going to make it or not. Crap, he hated those days. And fuck it if his stupid ass didn't just put Finn in the same position.

The bright, fluorescent lights of the hospital reflected off of the stark white walls of the hallways, hurting Puck's eyes and making it that much harder to keep them open. There was too much noise, from the wheels of the stretcher to the voices of the paramedics to Finn's litany of threats. The last thing Puck saw, with half-lidded eyes, was a pair of beautiful green eyes and then he slipped off into unconsciousness, praying to a God that he half believed in, to let him live if only to spare Finn the pain and to see those eyes again.

* * *

When Puck came to, there were three things on his mind: food, pain, and more pain. Blinking his eyes to clear them, Puck could see the hulking frame of his partner scrunched up in a chair by his bedside, head tilted back as he slept. Puck smiled, he loved that tree of a man.

"He hasn't left the room in two days." Puck's skin shivered at the sound of that voice. It was _beautiful_. Melodic and high-pitched, it immediately put him at ease only to get his pulse racing at the gorgeousness of it. Puck was sure that it was what angels sounded like.

Turning his head to greet the owner of the heavenly voice, the detective was shocked to see that it belonged to a man. A _beautiful_ man, quite possibly the most effeminate man he's ever seen, but a man nonetheless. The man smiled and Puck could feel his face stretching in an answering smile.

"I'm Doctor Hummel, Detective. I was the one to treat you when you came in two days ago."

Puck shuddered at the way "Detective" sounded coming from the man's (stunning, rosy) lips. He loved it when women addressed him by rank, but nothing could hold a candle to _this_.

"Thanks, Doc. You know, for saving my life and everything."_ Smooth, Puckerman, real smooth._

Dr. Hummel let out a small, breathy laugh that got Puck's pulse racing another 20 notches, "No problem, Detective. It was my pleasure. And, you know, in my job description." Puck blushed a little at the gentle teasing. "How are you feeling? Any pain?"

"Some, but nothing too bad."

The young doctor smiled as he shook his head, "If I had a quarter for every time a macho-cop underreported their pain, we could build that new pediatric wing our director's been salivating over."

"Yeah, you get a lot of us bone-headed guys around here?"

Dr. Hummel raised a eyebrow and smirked, "Who said anything about them being men?"

Puck laughed, "Speaking from personal experience, I'm really shocked I made that mistake. All the chick cops I know are the toughest cops on the streets. And the most stubborn."

"Yes, it also helps that women have a higher tolerance for pain. Now, let's check your vitals."

Puck shifted in an attempt to pull himself up to a sitting position. He had difficulty pushing up with the one free arm he had, his injured shoulder being in a sling.

"Here, let me." And with that, the young doctor grabbed Puck around the bicep and used his other hand to support his back and together, they managed to situate the built detective. The doctor's warm hands lingered on Puck's bare bicep and Puck didn't know if it was the meds he was on, the meds he _should_ be on, or Dr. Hummel, but he could swear the warmth from the hand traveled all around his body and migrated to his soul.

When the doctor realized that his hand was still on Puck, he blushed and Puck had to recite the Bill of Rights in his head to prevent himself from attacking his lips with his own. _A regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the People to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed._God, a blush like that should be illegal. Then again, if it were illegal, then Puck would have to arrest him and that introduced the concept of handcuffs and Puck's mind couldn't really handle that just yet. _No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law._

The doctor hummed softly to himself as he maneuvered himself around Puck and the machines. Recognizing the song, Puck sang along, "_Oh, wasn't the spring, whooo/ And spring became the summer/Who'd believe you'd come along"_

Dr. Hummel smiled as he continued testing Puck's knee-jerk reflex, "You have quite the voice, Detective."

"I was in a band with this idiot over here," nodding to Finn's sleeping form, "all through college. We still hit up bars at Open Mic Nights from time to time. Wait, Sweet Caroline? _Please_, tell me you're not a Red Sox fan." Puck was going to cry if that were the case. Some things he could overlook, such as the fact that this person is _male_ and Puck's idea of "experimenting" in college dealt with the number of people in his bed, not the gender. Boston fans were out of the question, however.

For the first time that day, the doctor's face transformed into something fierce, unlike the soft glances and warm expressions he'd been sporting earlier, "Oh, _hell_ no. Furthermore, _fuck_ no! Fuck the Red Sox."

Puck was shocked. He'd known this person for twenty minutes, but he somehow knew that he was not the type of person to swear.

"The Red Sox are a God-less team!" The medic was on a roll, pausing only to gather breath, "How could you ever insult me like that?" Puck grinned and put up his hand in surrender, "Sorry, sorry! I had to ask! Now there's only one question left: Mets or Yankees?"

The doctor huffed and turned around. Puck was about to apologize again when the doctor took off his lab coat and lifted the back of his green scrubs shirt, "Does this answer your question?" Puck leaned forward to look closer and gasped. On the pale (smooth and beautiful) hip was a small Yankees logo with a '2' beneath it.

"Jeter?"

Replacing his shirt, Dr. Hummel replied, "Derek Jeter is a god among men. Not _only_ does he play the sport better than anyone else, he's a great leader and captain."

"And hot."

"And ridiculously hot," the young doctor gushed. "If you tell me that you're a Mets fan, I'm going to regret saving your life. If you like the Mets, you don't like baseball."

Puck was in love. Utterly and completely. "I could not have said it better myself."

A strong female voice interrupted their (flirting) conversation, "Kurt! Kurt, where are you? Is it time to check on that and I quote, 'Fine specimen of a human male'? Oh! You're already here! And he's awake! Damn, you _are_ fine."

Dr. Hummel, _Kurt_, blushed to the roots of his hair and Puck could only smirk, _Score!_ He turned his attention to the voluptuous black woman who had entered the room, "Yeah, I'm awake and thank you for the compliment, Doctor –" he trailed off.

"Jones. Dr. Mercedes Jones, and she'll be leaving now."

"Aw, hell naw I'm not! We've been waiting forever for him to wake up and I will not let you keep him all to yourself. Him or that cute partner of his!"

Puck could not help the laugh that escaped him, "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"See that, he's a gentleman too! Heroic, hot, and homely. Perfect!"

"Mercedes, will you please _shut up_!"

Puck loved seeing the well-put-together man flustered. It was adorable.

"Don't you have rounds to do?"

"No, _we_ have rounds to do. You just spent half-an-hour on _one_ patient! Schue is going to be mad."

Kurt snorted, "As if that man could express anything but optimism. I love him, but he is too happy. Not a great quality in an attending."

"Especially with us misfits underneath him."

"I _wish_ I was underneath him." Kurt and his friend both cracked up and Puck could tell that this was a running joke.

"Come on, boy, we have to go. Wrap this up."

Kurt turned to the detective, "Alright, I'll be back to check on you later. Make sure to call for the nurse if the pain gets to be bad. Try to eat, you'll need your strength. Unfortunately, you are going to be spending at least a week here." Puck groaned. "I know, I know. I'm sorry, but that is a small price to pay for the fact that you're going to make a complete recovery. There will be no lasting damage."

"That's because my boy is the shit." Kurt glowed under the praise and Puck couldn't help but smile.

"Do you need anything else, Detective?" _Just your hand in marriage_. "No, thanks, Doc."

"I'll see you later." And with a smile and wave, the doctor was gone.

Puck sighed contently and threw his head back against the pillows, "You're lucky that you can act like a drug-dealer better than a sleeping dude, because otherwise, we'd both be dead shit on the side of the road."

His partner sat up and grinned at him, "Enjoy your checkup, Puckerman? Too bad doctors don't give sponge baths."

Puck tossed some ice-chips at him, "Shut up! We were having a _conversation_."

Finn laughed long and loud, "Puck, you don't _know_ what a conversation is! Dude, you were _totally_ flirting!"

Puck groaned, "I don't know what's wrong with me! But he's the prettiest dude I've ever seen."

"Puck, take it from me. If you like him, ask him out! It doesn't matter if he's a dude or a chick or a plant! 'Cuz you're a stud and that's never going to change."

Puck could see that his best friend meant it, "So it wouldn't be weird?"

"If you were into dudes, you would've done me by now." Puck grimaced at the mental image, "It's obviously him. Do something about it!"

"Fine, fine. I'll ask him out."

"That's the spirit! And, while you're at it, get me his friend's number. She's smokin'."

Puck laughed, "Sure thing, partner."

"And Puck?"

"Yeah, dude?"

"Thanks for not dying."

"Anytime dude."

As Puck went back to sleep, it occurred to him that those beautiful green eyes belonged to Doctor Kurt Hummel.


	2. Chapter 2

When Puck woke up, it was morning. Birds chirped and the noise of New York City traffic wafted in from all those floors below. Sunlight streamed into the comfortable, if small, hospital room, giving it a warm, peaceful atmosphere.

Which was shattered with the shrieking of a blonde woman who came barreling through the door.

"What the FUCK were you thinking?"

Puck groaned and shut his eyes, willing the woman away with the sheer power of his mind.

"I'm Puck, I walk around thinking I'm Superman! Bullets can't hurt me! So it's okay if I walk into a meth lab known for stashing a small cache of guns!"

No such luck.

"The NYPD has SWAT teams for a reason, _Noah Puckerman!_"

"You know, my heart rate shouldn't go any higher and your voice is _grating_. Mind taking the harpy act and leaving?"

Quinn Fabray leaned over and smacked him on his uninjured arm, "Don't be stupid, Puck. As if you could stay in a hospital alone without wrecking havoc. Finn asked me to stay with you while he went home to shower."

"Of all the psychopathic bitches he could have asked to 'stay with me', he had to choose the _queen _of the psychopathic bitches?"

"Psychopaths do what they do because of who they are. It's not psychopathic when it's _provoked_, jackass."

"So setting my desktop on fire was _provoked_?"

"You arrested me and my girlfriend for indecent exposure!"

"Having sex in a public place is against the law."

"My OFFICE is not PUBLIC!"

"The law leaves room for interpretation."

"Fucker."

"Dyke."

"Neanderthal."

"Dumb blonde."

"Man-whore."

"Vagina-breath."

"Right back at ya."

"Am I interrupting something?"

The two whipped around to see an effeminate man standing in the doorway. Puck's face flushed, nice thing for Dr. Hummel to witness: verbal bashing with his favorite lesbian.

"Sorry about that, Doctor. I'm Quinn Fabray and I'm not that proud to say that I'm this jackass's friend."

"Geez, Fabs, I didn't know you felt that way about me."

"Oh, go suck on a needle."

Dr. Hummel looked alarmed before his face relaxed and he laughed, "You two sound like great friends."

Quinn rolled her eyes, but looked at Puck affectionately, "Yeah, which is why I nearly died when I heard about this one getting shot. Are you the person we have to thank for his life?"

The doctor blushed, "It was nothing, really. All part of the job."

That might have been true, but it didn't stop Quinn from wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Puck saw the doctor's (gorgeous, stunning, impossibly green) eyes widen before returning the hug. "Thank you so much."

"I knew it! I knew you had a thing for doctors. I should've come with you to reinforce your memory of our long and loving relationship."

Puck laughed, only one person in the entire world spoke like that. Which is why he was shocked at the next moment.

"Rachel?!"

"Kurt?!"

Puck and Quinn stared in surprise as the young doctor and small woman hugged.

"Where have you been, Kurt? I keep e-mailing you! It's been a year since we last saw each other!"

"I'm doing residency, Rachel. It's not exactly a happy-go-lucky time. But I did see your show two weeks ago!"

"You did! Why didn't you come talk to me?"

"I would've, except for the hoards of screaming fans at the backdoor. I love you, but not that much."

"Hey, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even be a doctor!"

"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Princess."

"I will!" The two burst into laughter and hugged again. Puck took in the scene hungrily, it was nice seeing the doctor so relaxed and out of a professional context.

"Are you wearing scrubs?"

"Don't worry, they're designer."

"Really?!"

"No! Jeez, you got dumb."

"Oh, shut up! You're just jealous that I'm on Broadway and your stuck here, saving lives."

Kurt laughed again, "The infamous Rachel Berry diva strikes again!"

Puck laughed this time, knowing all too well what Kurt was talking about.

"_You_ don't get to talk. What were you thinking getting shot?"

Puck was starting to get angry, "Why does everyone think I _chose_ this? It's not like I woke up that morning thinking, 'Oh, it's be fun to get a new piercing! I think I'll get shot today!' I didn't make the conscious effort to put myself in the path of a bullet!"

"YES YOU DID!" was the reply offered by the two women.

Rachel spoke up, "Finn told us that you wouldn't wait for backup."

"They would've gotten away and DiAngelo is responsible for the ODs of two high school kids!"

"Was responsible."

Puck turned to the blonde CSU tech, "Huh?"

"Was responsible. When backup arrived, DiAngelo was so high on meth, he suffered a heart attack from all the excitement. He died yesterday."

Puck's stomach bottomed out, "Oh, _fuck_. DiAngelo was small beans. He would have rolled on his superiors in a heartbeat. We wanted him alive, God damn it!"

"I'm sorry, Detective, but you have to calm down! You just had major surgery and your body isn't ready for this kind of excitement." Puck looked down, breathing hard.

"Sorry, Doc. I promise I'll calm down." Kurt's answering smile stopped Puck's heart. The man was just too pretty.

Voices from the hallway filtered into the room, "Is Kurt ready for his presentation?"

Puck recognized the voice of the next speaker as Dr. Jones, "Yeah, Schue, he's in with the patient now, checking vitals. I'm sure he's ready to present."

"Oh, sweet Versace, I forgot about rounds again! Quick, act as if I'm a professional!" Puck nearly choked on his laughter as he watched the doctor flit around the room like a hummingbird on crack.

The next moment had a small group of lab-coated people enter the room. Puck saw Dr. Jones and on her right, he saw an attractive man who looked older than the rest of the group. _That must be his attending_, Puck thought.

The man, who Puck guessed to be "Schue", stepped forward, "Good morning. I'm Doctor Schuester and these lovely people behind me are the residents of the floor. As a teaching hospital, part of our duties is to use real patients as learning experiences. Would you mind being presented on?"

Puck grinned, "Hell no, Doc."

Quinn and Rachel rolled their eyes as Kurt's widened. Dr. Schuester was unfazed, however, and continued to smile genially, "Excellent. Dr. Hummel, would you like to proceed?"

Puck watched as the doctor slipped into a confident yet eager to please composition, "We have a 29 year-old male that was brought in with a gunshot wound to the left shoulder. At the time of admittance, blood pressure was elevated at 190 over 40, which can be attributed to the stress of being shot."

The other doctors tittered and Puck smiled. Dr. Hummel was a physician, no doubt, but he was also a performer. He commanded the room with a wave of his perfectly manicured hands and a lilt in his high-pitched voice.

"Patient lost consciousness right around the time of arrival. He was taken into surgery, where the bullet was removed. The bullet had nicked the auxiliary artery, which caused a lot of blood loss. Three bags of O negative were transfused. Fortunately, the bullet missed the ulnar and medial nerve bundles. However, it did cause some damage to the radial nerve. To avoid the loss of nerve function, the nerve was fused together with 120 millivolts of electric current."

One mousey looking man in the group raised his hand excitedly, "You shocked the nerve together? There is no literature procedure that calls for that. I would know, I read all—"

Just as Puck was about to call the obnoxious resident out, Dr. Schuester stepped in, "Yes, Doctor Israel, there are no literature procedures pertaining to this technique. In fact, who can tell me what the literature actually says about fixing a nicked nerve cell?"

Puck had no idea about what they were talking about, but it looked like no else did either, as the only response were confused faces and nervous shuffling.

"Yeah, because there are none. There are _no_ current treatments for a damaged nerve. For all intensive purposes, this man should not be able to move his arm."

Dr. Jones whooped, "That's my boy!"

Kurt flushed, a rosy color overtook his pale face, but he smiled bashfully. Dr. Schuester turned to him and smiled before turning back to the group of residents, face serious, "Dr. Hummel not only saved this man's life, but he saved this man's _quality_ of life. Just by thinking outside the box. Try it sometime."

Dr. Schuester then turn to Puck and he was taken aback by the intensity he found in the man's soft, brown eyes. He saw a level of care that he'd hardly ever saw and have never seen in a stranger. Puck felt warm all over and he internally wigged out, "You're really lucky that Doctor Hummel was on call that night."

Puck's face fell into a smirk, "Doc, tell me something I don't know."

Kurt's face erupted in a blush that stretched from his hairline down his neck and Puck felt a flash of desire as he thought about what could get the blush to spread down further. Dangerous thoughts, Puckerman, dangerous thoughts.

"Alright, let's leave—" Dr. Schuester look at the chart at the foot of Puck's bed, "—Detective Puckerman with his friends and family. Happy recovery, Detective."

"Thanks, Doc. Hey, Dr. Jones!"

As the group was filing out, the black doctor turned back at him, "What's up, Detective?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but are you single?"

Dr. Hummel (who had stayed behind) and Dr. Jones both gasped and Puck charged on, "Because my _partner_ is very interested. You know, the tall one? The sequoia?"

The voluptuous woman squealed, "Oh, hell yeah! Yes! That boy is _fine_." Puck, Quinn, and Rachel watched as Kurt and Mercedes jumped up and down in excitement.

Kurt grabbed a pen and jotted down something on a piece of paper that he handed to Puck, "Here's her number and address. She doesn't put out on the first date, but is known to on the second, given the attractiveness and personality of the man."

Quinn and Rachel laughed as Mercedes smacked her friend's arm, "Finn is going to be ecstatic, thanks, Doc!"

"No, thank _you_. If you'll excuse me, I have lives to save and outfits to plan."

Kurt waited for her to leave before turning back to Puck, "Is your partner a good person? Because he seemed like it, but she is my best friend. And to quote her, 'I will cut a bitch' if he tries anything."

Puck liked seeing loyalty in friends. There wasn't much he wouldn't do for his friends and appreciated that quality in others, "Finn is the best person ever created by God. And I believe that whole-heartedly. I'd swear my balls on it."

Quinn and Rachel sighed, "Beautiful, beautiful sentiment and then that mouth."

Puck was too preoccupied with the man before him to deal with his annoying, but appreciated friends. He looked into the green eyes as he tried to convince the fierce doctor of his sincerity. He must have been pretty convincing because Kurt's face went from hard and serious to a breathtaking smile and sparkling eyes.

"Excellent." Kurt straightened up, "I'm happy for her and for your friend, because my 'Cedes is the hottest, smartest, fiercest diva and your friend better recognize." The last bit was said with enough flair that it sent Rachel and Quinn into laughing fits.

"Okay, I have to go catch up with the rest of them. I'll check on you later. Need anything, Detective?"

"Doc, wait." Puck used all the energy he had to pull him self up and over, out of bed. Kurt ran to him, "Stop, stop, stop! You'll hurt yourself!"

Puck waved him off, "I got this." He stood up an after an initial wobble, he planted his feet and turned to the pale man, who was now beside him. Looking down into his face, as there was a third of a foot between them, Puck couldn't help but think that they were the perfect height for each other.

The doctor looks up into Puck's face expectantly, "Yes, Detective?"

Puck swallowed, "Thanks for saving my arm. Being a cop on the street is my life. I would have gone crazy riding a desk." Puck flashed him a smile and he could have sworn he saw the other man's breath catch, "And Finn wouldn't survive without me watching his stupid-ass back. So you saved two lives."

The doctor returned the smile, if more shyly. Looking down at his hands, he replied, "Part of the job. And I'd do anything for New York's finest." Looking up into Puck's eyes, he flashed him one more smile before turning and leaving the room. Puck was left blown away by the short, intense, close conversation with the smaller man.

The moment the doctor left the room, Rachel crossed the room with quick, long strides and closed the door. And then the vultures descended.

"What was that?"

"What are you talking about, Barbara?"

"Once again, Noah, being compared to Barbara Streisand is _not _an insult. And secondly, we're wondering when you decided you were attracted to men."

Puck blanched, "What the fuck are you on? I don't like dudes!"

Quinn nodded, "Yeah, just one dude. And he's barely a dude."

Puck groaned, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Rachel turned to Quinn, "You be Kurt."

Quinn took on a higher register, "Oh, Detective, saving your life is all part of the job!"

Rachel's face crumbled into an exaggerated doe-eyed look of adoration, "I'm going to look intensely into your eyes for a really long time because I think your eyes are pretty and I want to kiss you!"

Puck tossed a pillow at the two giggling women, "Oh shut up! It's not like that!"

Quinn smiled, "Oh, it's like that. Face it, Puckerman, you're smitten."

Puck groaned again, "I know. I know! But he's so pretty! And sarcastic. And smart. And he has a Yanks tattoo!"

Quinn sucked in a loud breath, "Jesus, it's like he was made for you."

Rachel looked thoughtful, "If it's any consolation to you, Noah, it seems like the feeling is totally mutual."

Puck's head shot up off his pillow, "Seriously?"

The young diva nodded rapidly, "I've lived through _many_ crushes of Kurt's. He is definitely interested!"

Quinn squealed, "And the two of you would make such a cute couple!"

Rachel turned to her girlfriend, "I know, right?"

Puck laid his head down on the pillow, closing his eyes, contemplating his new favorite doctor, as he was lulled to sleep by the squeals and excitement of his two friends.


	3. Chapter 3

Doctor Kurt Hummel closed his locker with a sigh. Next to him, his best friend was talking his ear off about her upcoming date.

"Should I go with a dressy casual or casual dressy?" To any eavesdroppers, this inquiry would be ridiculous and confusing. This? This is how Kurt Hummel and Mercedes Jones communicated.

"Mercedes? Do you even know when the date is?"

"Shoot! Damn, boy, I was so excited I forgot to call him back. White boy called while I was stitching up that handsy gangbanger." Kurt grinned, recalling the backhand Mercedes bestowed on the young delinquent when he touched her, um, derriere. It is not a proper day if Mercedes doesn't verbally or physically smack down someone and Kurt loved her for it. That is why they were friends.

"Well, find out if you even _have_ date first and we can talk about your outfit." He sent her a devilish grin only to wince when she (gently) body checked him into a row of lockers.

"Boy, don't be hatin'. Of course I have a date. Have you seen this?" She swept a hand down her (immaculately dressed) figure, "Everyone wants to get with this. Except you, of course, Mister Mayor of Gaytown."

"That's _Doctor_ Mayor of Gaytown."

Mercedes reached into her messenger bag and pulled out her cell phone. Holding it up, she asked, "There's still time to make this a double date."

Kurt glared, "Mercedes, I doubt he's gay and I'm done dealing with straight men and their insecurities."

Mercedes gave as good as she got, "Gay, straight, _asexual_, whatever! That boy might have never looked at a dick before, but he _definitely _wants to get up on this!" She smacked his ass and a somber smile inched up on his face.

"Mercedes, I _can't_ go through that again. It hurt too much last time." Kurt shut his eyes and willed the pain away. It's been a year, but it was ridiculous how easily the memory of heartache rushed back. He was pulled from his head by a squeeze of his forearm.

Opening his eyes, he saw Mercedes' half-non-smile. Kurt hated that smile. It was a parody of her stunning (and often mischievous) grin. This is her conceit. Her forfeit. Her acknowledgement that she does not and will not ever understand this particular pain. And this alienation is what hurts the most. Mercedes Jones is his soul mate, his inner bitch and his outer conscious. How alone is he if the other half of his being can't understand?

"Baby, remember our golden rule."

Kurt gave her a wan smile, "Never mix textures?"

She took the offered tension breaker, "_This too shall pass_. We've been through worse. Heck, we passed our boards! Our love lives will be cakewalk. You and I will find fabulous men that can only hope to keep up with us. We will start families and we will be so stupidly happy, Schue will think we're dipping into the morphine stocks."

"She says as the unspoken 'Again' hangs between them."

"Hey, _you're_ the one that thought we could channel House by getting high on pain meds."

"We channeled _something_." The doctors shared a long look before cracking up. Kurt threw his hands around her shoulders and buried his face into her neck, "Love you, 'Cedes."

She squeezed back, "Love you too, Kurt."

The two parted ways, Mercedes on the phone with her suitor and Kurt heading to finish off his rounds. It was merely a coincidence that his last patient on the rotation was Detective Puckerman. Or at least that what he was trying to convince himself as he walked down the white washed hallways.

* * *

Kurt walked into his patient's room and onto the most peculiar sight. In _Detective_ Puckerman's room was Rachel's girlfriend (Quinn?) and what looked like a…street professional (read: hooker).

"Didn't have time to change, San?"

The woman rolled her eyes, "I thought you'd enjoy the view, Puckerman."

"Oh, I'm enjoying. OW! What was that for?"

"You said your heart rate needed to be kept down. Erections aren't exactly construed that way." Kurt tried to repress the grin that was making its way across his face as he watched the friends interact. It still didn't explain, however, why the two were seemingly all right with compromising their reputations as crime fighters by associating with criminals.

He coughed lightly to announce his presence and immediately regretted it as three pairs of inquisitive eyes turned to him. The unidentified woman walked up to him (reaching his height in those six inch heels) and stuck out her hand to shake.

"I'm Santana Lopez and I'm not a hooker." Well, she was sure dressed like one.

Detective Puckerman snorted, "No matter how hard it is to believe, she's not lying. Santana is the pride and joy of the 1-3, Manhattan Vice." Kurt's relief and resolved confusion must have been palpable, because the other three occupants of the room started laughing.

"Don't worry about it, Doc." Kurt turned to the detective, face slightly red. "Today's outfit is particularly slutty." Yes, yes it was. Leather mini-skirt that just barely covered her ass, thigh high boots, and a scrap of fabric that he wasn't so sure qualified as a shirt.

"Yeah, keep staring Puckerman. This outfit and my hot body roped in four enforcers of the _Mascuci crime family!_"

Apparently this was a good thing, Kurt gathered as he watched Detective Puckerman's face light up. He sat up in shock, "No way! You got Mascuci leg-breakers on soliciting a pro? That's fucking awesome, San!"

They exchanged high-fives, "Yeah, that's why I couldn't come visit sooner. I was in deep for the last three days."

"No problem, San. What's your excuse, Blondie?"

"I was having sex."

Kurt grinned. Snarky friendships are something he could understand.

"Sorry, Doc. I keep telling these two that the should act more like ladies, but they insist on acting like 'hos."

The two women immediately started on him, "Are you for real? Is there a woman in all of New York that you haven't stuck your dick into?"

"You can recite the alphabet with the names of all the STDs you have!"

"The girls I work with on the street tell me that they know what you're like in bed! They're pros!"

"Hey, hey, hey, I've never had to pay for sex. I'm a stud."

Kurt covered his laugh with another cough as Santana reached under the blankets covering his patient's feet and twisted the big toe harshly, "Ow! Bitch!"

"Not much of a stud now, are you Puckerman?"

"Doc, help me out here!"

Kurt faked-sighed, "As a part of the oath I took, I cannot let you physically harass my patient. The 'do no harm' bit gets in the way of most torture techniques."

"Awww," chorused the two girls. They shared a look and then Kurt was lost. The girls went through a series of non-verbal gestures that construed a conversation Kurt had no hope of understanding.

"Don't even bother, Doc. These chicks have been pulling this shit since the second grade."

"You've all known each other for that long?"

Detective Puckerman laughed, "Hell no. I would have dumped these bitches a _long_ time—"

Santana took a break from her non-verbal conversation to punch the detective in the leg. Hard, if the look on his face was any indication.

Quinn glared, "Santana and I have been friends forever. This jackass hit on me at a party and wormed his way into my life."

"After being kicked in the crotch."

"After being kicked in the crotch," Quinn agreed.

Kurt winced in sympathy. Well, partly in sympathy. Another part was definitely due to evidence of the detective's heterosexuality shoved in his face. _Keep it together, Hummel. _

"Who got kicked in the crotch?"

Kurt turned to the door, where Detective Hudson was entering the room.

"Finn!"

"Hey, San! Jesus, didn't have time to change?" he said as he wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

"Nope. I've been under deep—" "That's what she said!" (Quinn, surprisingly) "—and once I heard about this moron getting shot from Abrams, I booked it over here."

"Yeah, I heard you made Artie really happy with that Mascucci bust, congrats!"

"Making an ADA's life easy is what I live for."

Quinn was skeptical, "Really?"

"No," Santana snorts, "Those bastards aren't running around in two-inch skirts. They better be busting their asses in court."

"But Artie is awesome!" Santana begrudgingly agreed.

Kurt was lost and looking for an opening to leave the room. Too late, as Finn had spotted him.

"Doctor Hummel!" All of the air escaped Kurt's lungs as the tall detective embraced him in a large bear hug.

"Hudson, he turning blue!" Kurt could have kissed Detective Puckerman (_dangerous territory Hummel)_ as Finn released him.

"Sorry, Doc," he turned to Santana, "San, this is the guy that saved Puck's life!"

"I almost wish you hadn't."

"Ouch! That hurt, San."

"I'm just kidding. Where would I be without my favorite lesbro?" She made her way over to Kurt and hugged him, "Thanks for saving him, as annoying as he is."

Kurt turned red, "No problem." He seriously needed to get out of there. Seeing their friendship made it so easy to see how well he would fit into their circle. That would make fighting the attraction for Detective Puckerman all the much harder. Kurt had done this enough times to know that distance was key.

"I have to be getting to my other patients, but it was very nice meeting you and seeing the rest of you again. Take care, Detectives."

"Hey, Doc!" his patient called out from his bed, forcing Kurt to turn to him, "None of that, Detective stuff anymore. Hell, you've survived God-knows how many years with Rachel Berry. Puck, man. Puck."

"Finn."

"Santana or San."

"Or Satan! And I'm Quinn."

"Kurt, please." _So much for distance._


End file.
